


Faith, Jeeves, and Pixie Dust - or - Mr. Wooster and the Trouble with Pixies

by godsdaisiechain (preux)



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse, Peter Pan & Related Fandoms, Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie, Peter and Wendy - J. M. Barrie
Genre: Brave!Bertie, Crack, Crossover, Fluff and Crack, M/M, pixie dust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 07:54:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preux/pseuds/godsdaisiechain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Jeeves and Bertie get on the wrong side of a little firecracker… or do they?  Jeeves POV.</p><p>For the fan_flashworks challenge 'not what it looks like'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faith, Jeeves, and Pixie Dust - or - Mr. Wooster and the Trouble with Pixies

I swatted at an errant and highly persistent firefly early one morning, never considering how unlikely it was that such a creature would have entered the flat.  How little I understood of certain matters.  
  
*****  
  
The next morning, I woke alone in the bed just before dawn feeling oddly bereft.  This solitide at such an early hour was uncharacteristic as Mr. Wooster generally sleeps pressed closely against me in a most endearing way.  The last time I had awakened alone, he was collapsed on the carpet in the entryway after a series of revels that lasted into the early morning hours.  I rose and set out to find him.  
  
An unhappy sound drew my attention to the space under the piano. I bent over and found Mr. Wooster, curled up in an miserable ball in his dirty and disheveled pajamas, floating above the carpet. Little sparkles twinkled all over his body and his golden hair.  He made a sort of whimpering noise as he tried to press himself back down toward the floor. I must have made a sound because he looked up and quickly tried to act casual.  
  
“Ah, whatsit, Reggie,” he said, forcing his pale anxious face into a grin.  My heart melted and I crawled under the piano to fold him in my arms. I found myself beginning to twinkle as we hovered an inch or two above the carpet.  
  
“Darling, you're trembling. Whatever happened last night?”  
  
“I came in from the club just as this young chappie flew in at the front window. This miniature beazel came in with another chap all in brown and a ticking alligator.  She wanted to let him eat your feet, and I… well, you can see what they did to me. Dashed unsettling.”  
  
I smothered a chuckle as I smoothed his golden hair from his face and kissed his forehead, each of his cheeks and then his ripe mouth.  “Oh, darling, thank-you for rescuing me.”  
  
Mr. Wooster returned the kisses enthusiastically. “But now what are we going to do?”  
  
“I’d say we should take the second star to the right and fly straight on until morning.”  
  
Mr. Wooster laughed and nestled against me. “I tried that, but I got lost and wound up at the Drones.”  
  
A problem rose up and assailed me. “How did you get home?”  
  
Mr. Wooster shifted uncomfortably. “I clicked my heels together and said ‘there’s no place like home.’ And then I was back here, floating right over you in the bed.”  
  
I blinked back sudden tears at the thought. “I love you, Bertie Wooster.”


End file.
